Soccer Burn
by tyrells
Summary: Kristen Gregory. Kemp Hurley. They're a knock out soccer power couple, except for the fact they're not /actually/ a couple. Soccer rivals, Kristen keeps insisting. Why doesn't anyone believe her? And why isn't hot headed, soccer star Kemp Hurley doing anything to dispel any of these embarrassing rumors?
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note** : wow i can't believe it's been years since i wrote anything. i don't know what happened, but i woke up this morning with an urge to just... _write_. i wanted to give kristen some love because she's always cut out in my stories. IT'S HER TIME TO SHINE and as you all know, i can never resist a good rivals to friends to lovers trope. dis ma jam.

i'm honestly cringing because i honestly don't know anything about soccer, but i do want to write girls kicking some ass. all my soccer knowledge comes from a few games of fifa and amanda bynes in she's the man circa 2006.

don't mind me. just putting this out there...

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 **Chapter One**

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"You're not seriously going to join in, are you?"

Kristen Gregory alternated her leg on the wrought-iron workout bench in front of her for another stretch. She glanced up at her redheaded friend with her brow raised.

"Of course I am," she replied, straightening up and pulling her calf up behind her. She arched her back and tugged on her leg, loving the pleasurable pull in her quads.

Done with her stretches, Kristen finally turned her full attention to her friends. Alicia Rivera was seated on the bench she had just been stretching on, her face buried in her phone and giggling loudly. Massie Block sat next to her, arms crossed tight and eyes out on the soccer field. Kristen had a small hint who had her friend's attention. Dylan Marvil stood behind them, snapping her gum skeptically. Claire Lyons was the only other girl in their group that was taking gym class seriously. She was seated on the grass in front of them, finishing up her light stretches.

Third period gym was generally considered a joke by the entire class, but when Coach Belford brought sports into it, it became a whole other ball game for Kristen. Not only that, but when it came to soccer…

Dylan stopped chewing her gum at Kristen's expression. "But," she emphasized, "the Tomahawks are here."

The words finally captured Massie's attention. She turned back to face their group casually. "Yes, but so is a Soccer Sister."

Kristen felt a rush of joy all that way from her toes to her fingertips at her friend's acknowledgement. Despite the fact that Kristen had dropped out of the program a few years ago, it was touching that Massie remembered. Massie was acknowledging her soccer skills, putting her on par with the boys of their famous high school soccer team.

Kristen's wide eyes met Massie's intense amber ones.

"Crush them," her friend told her.

Kristen felt that command all that way to her core.

Oh, she _would_. She was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. Soccer was her passion. For as long as she could remember, it had been a way for her to unleash herself. A way to challenge her reflexes, her sense, her drive. Nothing gave Kristen more of a rush than scoring a goal in front of a stadium full of cheering fans.

Having to cut herself off, resign as captain, and step down from the Sisters in order to maintain her grades for a scholarship to keep her acceptance at one of the most prestigious high schools in the nation had crushed her.

So despite that it was only going to be an impromptu match to kill time in the last 30 minutes of gym class on a random Wednesday morning, Kristen was going to give it her all.

"But Kristen," Alicia interjected. "You're really going to go all out and get all sweaty when Coach Belford isn't even watching?"

Kristen cast her blue eyes over to their gym teacher on the other side of the field, reading a book behind her thick clipboard.

"It's pass or fail anyway," Claire reasoned. She reached out and tugged on Dylan's arm to leverage herself up. "As long as we make it _look_ like we're doing something."

Dylan sighed in resignation and joined Claire and Kristen on the field. Alicia didn't stand up until Massie did, her phone still in her hands. Kristen rolled her eyes. Alicia wouldn't let go of her lifeline for anything.

"I'm going in," Kristen told them, before running off over to the group of boys clustered on the opposite end of the field.

Derrick Harrington, the Tomahawks goalie, had the soccer ball in his gloved hands. He was cracking up at Kemp Hurley, who had an arm thrown over Chris Plovert in a choke hold. Chris was fighting it with all his might, but he wasn't managing to escape. Coach Belford, of course, was missing all of this. Kristen refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Are we playing or what?" she snapped.

She tried not to flinch back when all eyes cut to her. She might have been a bit louder than she had intended, but she refused to be intimidated by a group of boys.

Derrick raised his brows and glanced at his friends. Cam Fisher and Josh Hotz glanced back at him, waiting for his verdict. Chris had stopped struggling in Kemp's arms. For a moment, no one said anything as they appraised her.

Kristen tried not to let their gazes on her regulation gym clothes, knee socks, and scuffed cleats faze her. She reached up and tightened her high ponytail.

Derrick's eyes slid past her for a moment and then he nodded his head. "Yeah, we'll play."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kemp interrupted, releasing Chris instantly and stepping up. "What happened to practice?"

"We can practice _at_ practice," Cam interjected him hurriedly. Like he knew his friend was close to something resembling a blowup. Kristen wasn't surprised; everyone knew that Kemp was a hot head. He got as heated as they come.

"Derrick, our first game is in _two weeks_ ," Kemp stressed. His eyes flashed over to glare at Kristen as if their time crunch was her fault.

"We can spare a quick game," Derrick replied causally, easily defusing the tension that had ratcheted up unexpectedly in two seconds because of Kemp.

Kemp sat back on his heels, arms crossed and a mean scowl on his face. He cast a dismissive eye at Kristen. "I guess it'll be quick."

Kristen bristled.

"Yeah," she snapped. "With you playing defense, it _will_ be."

" _Oooh,_ " Chris and Kemp hollered at her comeback. They reached over and shoved at Kemp, but he was unmovable.

She had no idea what had caused her to sass back, but there was no way she was letting Kemp diss her like that. There was nothing she hated more in the world than that dismissive look he had cast at her. As if she was beneath him. She got it all the time: from people around town when they recognized her last name, from shop attendants or waiters when she was out somewhere with the Pretty Committee out of her price range, from people at school when they found out she was on scholarship. She was tired of it.

She was sick of seeing it all her life.

Kemp's scowl darkened. While his friends all looked like they were carefree and having a good time, he looked murderous. Kristen tried not to let it intimidate her.

"You think just because you played a bit in middle school you're any good?" Kemp asked her.

Kristen bristled again. Captain of the Octavian Country Day School soccer team and a Soccer Sirens player was no small feat. She hated that he was tried to belittle her achievements. Her old team, her old position, her skill that came with years and years of practice was nothing to scoff at. She hadn't felt this angry in a long time.

She didn't even hesitate before she met Kemp's eyes and said, "I think I'm good enough to get past you."

Kemp held her eyes for a moment too long. "We'll see about that."

.

When she noticed that most of the class was waiting for her call, Coach Belford looked up from her book long enough to blow on the whistle for the start of the game. Right at kickoff, the ball was passed to Kristen who took off a second later. The Tomahawk guys all knew she was going to be her team's go-to after hearing her straight up issue a challenge, but this wasn't her first game.

Kristen's instincts took over instantly. She dribbled the ball past Josh, around Cam, and past Chris, heading straight towards the goal.

Kemp met Kristen's eyes from across the field. She continued towards him, already knowing she would need to get around him no matter what if she wanted to take her shot. He still had that dark scowl on his face, but he didn't leave his area. For a second, Kristen was in disbelief that he would be that cocky, but she cast that thought away immediately. He must have known she could come to him eventually.

For a moment, Kristen was tempted to dismiss him in return completely and head towards the right field defender, but she discarded that thought away too. She had a point to make.

When Kristen was close enough, Kemp finally moved into action. He sprinted towards her straight on. Kristen's flight or fight instinct kicked in. Kemp Hurley was six feet tall and pure lean muscle. Seeing him charge with a snarl like that would have made anyone's heart skip a beat, but Kristen had been to all the Tomahawk boys' soccer games.

She knew Kemp always started with a feint right before snatching the ball from the left. It was classic move, but Kristen was ready for him.

She spun and crossed her legs, one in front of the other to switch the soccer between her feet. She made another spin and she was past him.

The field between her and the goalie was clear.

Her heart in her throat, Kristen kicked the ball with her all might.

.

Kemp must have realized she had figured out his signature move, that it was useless to her now, because the next time she approached him with the ball, he feinted the other way and swung right between her legs. Kristen swung her left leg out and wrestled it right back into her control for a second before passing it off. She sacrificed a shot at a goal to prevent Kemp from gaining control of the ball over her. In his possession, there was no way her team would score a goal at all.

All Kristen could do now was evade.

.

The next time Kristen had possession of the ball, she knew she was in for it.

Kemp was out for blood. The moment she had reached midfield, he was on her. Kristen saw him coming from the corner of her eye, but he was too fast. She brought up her arm to block him and tried to feint, but Kemp had already predicted that.

Kristen watched the ball escape her grasp and into Kemp's. He spun around, backed up for room and prepared to kick off, but Kristen wasn't giving in that easy.

She sprinted after him and slid down to the ground, skidding her entire body into a kick aimed straight at the ball. It was a last ditch desperate attempt to prevent Kemp from passing.

It was a stupid move. She would never have done it in a real game, but something had taken over her.

Kristen barely grazed the soccer ball, right as Kemp kicked off with all his might. The ball was already flying. Kristen's cleated feet slammed straight into Kemp's right leg.

Kemp's quick reflexes pulled his left leg back and his unbalance was the only thing that saved him. He toppled over, slamming into the ground next to her.

Coach Belford's whistle cut through the air. She blew on it three times in quick succession.

"Alright!" she called out. "THAT'S ENOUGH! Game over!"

This was the most engaged Kristen had ever seen Coach Belford. Kristen was surprised she had even noticed what was happening on the field. Kristen sat up with her heart in her throat. She could feel the tension in the air from the entire gym class as they all watched, herself included, as Kemp pushed himself up off the ground.

Coach Belford's book was on the ground and she was actually heading towards the field.

Kristen stood up quickly, so she wasn't on the ground as Kemp stood over her. He had crossed the field over to her in a matter of moments, despite his leg. For a moment, Kristen feared for her life. This is how she was going out. She would even deserve it. It was a _shitty_ move, risky as hell. It could have really hurt her. Hell, it hurt _Kemp_.

If he was taken out before soccer season even _started_ , the whole school would have—

Chris cut in front of his friend, an attempt to stop him from approaching Kristen. "Dude—are you—" he tried to ask.

He didn't get any further, because Kemp shouldered past him. He stopped an inch away from Kristen. His entire right leg was scuffed up and he was bleeding through his sock. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Kristen couldn't deny she was intimidated. Kemp wasn't the tallest guy Kristen's ever seen, but she couldn't help but feel small with the tension in the air between them hotter than flammable gas. The air was ripe for ignition any moment.

"I'm sorry," Kristen choked out.

Kemp's eyes narrowed. " _What_?" he hissed between gritted teeth.

Kristen's own eyes narrowed. Oh, so it was like _that_ , huh? She straightened up and crossed her arms across her chest as a protective barrier. She ground her teeth together in anger, but still… she knew she had been in the wrong. "I _said_ , I'm sor—"

Coach Belford reached them at that moment, and Kemp stepped back, his eyes still on her. At that moment, Kristen would almost say that he looked confused, much to _her_ confusion. His brow furrowed the more he watched her.

Coach Belford inspected both of them for injuries. Kristen was fine, but Kemp refused any help. Coach Belford obviously knew better than to force him. Kristen backed off when the other Tomahawk boys came over to hover over Kemp. None of them said anything to Kristen.

Kristen stood still and accepted Coach Belford's chiding about sportsmanship and endangering fellow classmates over a game. Coach Belford accepted her apology absentmindedly, her eyes were glued to her watch. Gym was over. Kristen escaped punishment due to timing. The entire time, Kemp's eyes never left her.

"Alright," Coach Belford sighed to the class. "You're free to go."

Needless to say, this was probably the last time their class was playing sports during gym class. Kristen turned and slowly caught up with the class slowly heading off the field. Kristen caught up to her friends. The moment she was close enough, Massie took her into her arms and the entire Pretty Committee surrounded her.

"Kristen, that was _amazing_ ," Dylan gushed. The other girls nodded vigorously.

Claire was almost jumping up and down. "You were so awesome out there," she added. "That first goal—"

"No! What about when—"

Massie tugged Kristen closer to her, so their heads were pressed close together.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Kristen swallowed the lump in her throat at the warm swelling heat growing inside her chest at her friends' words and care. She had never felt more loved than at this moment, surrounded by the Pretty Committee's support.

She nodded.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm okay."

She threw her own arms around Massie and it was a testament to how proud her Alpha was of her, despite the way the game had ended, that she didn't even complain that Kristen was sweaty from running around and covered in dirt from skidding on the grass.

Despite this, or maybe because of this, Kristen couldn't help but glance back behind her at Kemp. She accidentally met his eyes, because he was already staring at her.

His stare must have been hot, because Kristen felt herself heating up.

She whipped back around to Massie. "Kemp's staring at me like he's never seen a girl before."

Massie, whose sharp eyes always seemed to notice everything, was already watching them. That was the thing about her best friend. Not only did Massie have keen observational skills, she had the daring and desire to cause trouble. She spotted drama and strove to fuel it. It was something that always excited Kristen, but she had never had it turned on her.

Massie smirked at her cheekily. "Never seen a girl _own_ his ass so thoroughly, maybe."

Kristen flushed red and choked on her signature cackle, letting the girl's locker room doors slam shut behind them. She was glad they were finally away from the field, the Tomahawk boys, and the judgment in Kemp's dark eyes. She would have died of embarrassment if he had heard Massie's comment.

.

Because of the drama at the end of gym, Kristen was late for her next class. Her friends had barely worked up a sweat and had only needed touch ups, but Kristen had gone all out and needed a full shower. Hair tie in her hands, Kristen piled all her dirty blonde hair into a messy bun to dry. Anything to get her wet hair out of her face.

She had just exited the locker room and rounded a corner when she slammed right into solid muscle.

Kristen stumbled back, but Kemp grabbed her by the elbows, preventing her from slamming on her ass just like she had made him less than 20 minutes ago on the soccer field.

Suddenly, once again, Kemp was an obstacle in her way. He was a wall, with dark eyes, impenetrable thoughts, and a solid presence.

Kristen swallowed, working her throat to speak.

"Hey," he said before she could say anything. _Hey, he said_ , Kristen thought in disbelief, like he started conversations with her every single day. Like his arms around her and his stupid body up close and personal right in front of her face again was a normal occurrence for them.

Just to let you know: it wasn't.

"That last move of yours—can you do it again?"

Of all the things Kristen expected him to say to her after that game, that hadn't been it. Had he been looking for her after gym, to talk to her?

"What?" she said out loud, confused.

Kemp's expression shifted back into a familiar one: a scowl. "The one where you almost dislocated my ankle, broke my leg, and took me out?"

Kristen flushed red in embarrassment again. She had already _apologized_ for that.

"What about it?" she snapped angrily. She hadn't meant to sound so defensive. She felt bad enough about it already, but the way Kemp worded it made shame crawl up her back. She hated that she felt that way about something related to soccer.

Kemp stared at her like he couldn't believe she was being so difficult. "Can you do it again?" he stressed.

Kristen stared at him, startled out of her feelings. "Wait, you _want_ me to do it again?"

Kemp's expression shifted straight into annoyance. He released her arms and stepped back. "Wow, you really do fit the blonde stereotype," he scoffed.

Wait, was Kemp Hurley calling _her_ a dumb blonde? Kristen's emotions moved back from shame and jumped right back into anger so fast she gave _herself_ whiplash. "What the _hell_ is your prob—"

"Can you or not?" Kemp interrupted her.

At that moment, Kristen barely held herself back from kicking her legs out and slamming right into him right then and there just to watch him hit the ground again. "Oh, you better believe I can," she hissed at him. "I can do it right now, if you need another demonstration."

Kemp raised his brow at her and a small smirk teased at his lips.

Kristen felt her stomach swoop in confusion for a moment.

"Tonight. After school at six. Meet me back at the field," he told her, nodding his head. As if this was a given already. It was fine, it wasn't like Kristen had any plans other than studying, but even if she did, she wouldn't have cared. She would have canceled them.

It _was_ a given already, because Kristen was raring to go.

"You're on," she snapped, sealing the deal.

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 **Author's Note:** i'm cackling bc i'm so embarrassed. it's been so long i don't know how to write anymore. i'll proof read tomorrow.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note** : it's wednesday my dudes! time for an update! again, i don't know anything about soccer, but writing this makes me want to watch _she's the man_ (2006) again.

i might come back to this chapter and add more. i don't think i included enough kristen's struggles. i feel like i can expand more of her inner thoughts. but for now, it is what it is. enjoy!

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 **Chapter 2**

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All throughout the rest of the day, the gravity of what she agreed to with _Kemp Hurley_ of all people slowly dawned on Kristen. Gnawing on her blue pen, Kristen tapped her foot against the linoleum flooring of the Student Government classroom. She was always anxious to get out because the after school class was always running late, but today, she actually had other plans.

By the time, the Student Government president wrapped up their meeting, Kristen was starting to doubt herself. What had possessed her to agree to meet up with the most hot-tempered and volatile boy in the entire school?

Maybe she was going crazy. There was no way that Kemp wanted to meet up with her after school to… _what_? Play soccer?

But then, that would have implied that Kristen was hallucinating about Kemp Hurley, again _of all people_ , so there was no way. She couldn't have imagined it.

Kristen shoved open the school doors leading to the soccer field, gnawing on her lower lip in replacement of her pen. Nope, she definitely hadn't imagined it. She could already see Kemp on the field, even from this distance. She had already had the foresight to change into her gym clothes and cleats, so she headed over. Despite the fact that he must have just gotten out of soccer practice, he was still warming up on the field.

When Kristen dropped her gym bag down onto the grass next to him, Kemp finally turned to acknowledge her.

"Fucking finally," he snapped. "Took you long enough."

"If you're going to be an asshole, I'm leaving," she snapped back. Kristen crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to be surprised at herself. Sure, her mother always told her to watch her mouth, and she knew that she had no filter regarding snapbacks from hanging out with Pretty Committee, but she hadn't even really been offended.

This was just par for the course with Kemp Hurley.

His statement was something any of her friends would have said to her if she had kept them waiting, but that was the thing: Kemp didn't know her like that. And she couldn't let him get the wrong idea about her.

Kemp wasn't special. He wasn't the only person at their school with an attitude problem, but Kemp was shrouded in an aura of unpredictability. His dark eyes and darker scowl made him unapproachable and his attitude wasn't making him seem any less dangerous.

But Kristen wasn't afraid. He wanted _her_ here. If she was going to be working with him for whatever reason, she had to let him know he couldn't treat her like that. If he was going to be shitty, she would be shitty back.

Despite how desperate Kristen had been to figure out what he had wanted from her today, she turned to pick up her bag and leave.

"Wait," Kemp said, taking a step toward her. Kristen turned back to him with her brow raised. "Don't go."

Kristen raised her brow higher. That's it? Kemp seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. She could tell trying to work with her was frustrating the hell out of him. He ran his hand through his thick hair, pushing it back. Unwillingly, Kristen's eyes followed his hand, up his arms and up his shoulders, muscles clearly defined through his workout shirt.

A second later, Kristen cast her eyes away and squashed her thoughts absolutely flat with a giant imaginary hammer. She focused back on the topic at hand. She could tell that she was stretching it out. Hearing Kemp verbally tell her to stay was more than she had even expected.

"You're the one that asked me to come here," Kristen told him, uncrossing her arms and relenting. "So what is it that you want from me?"

Kemp straightened up, dropping his arm. Kemp wasn't known to joke around, and his voice sounded more serious than ever. "I want you to come at me."

"What?" Kristen cackled, amused as all hell.

"Today. At gym." Kemp's dark eyes cast over her face and down the length of her body. "I told you. I want you to do it again."

"I can't," Kristen blurted out. "That was—It was a spur of the moment thing. I can't just—"

Kemp raised his own brows and smirked. "What? You have to ease into it?"

Kristen reached out kicked the soccer ball in front of him. She wasn't going to stand around and listen to him make fun of her. Or worse, doubt her. And as always, Kristen knew her actions could speak louder. With a soccer ball between her legs, everything became crystal clear. She knew exactly what to do, exactly what her next move would be.

With soccer, Kristen never had to think. Her mind knew where she wanted to go, and her body was already performing the motion. Her ponytail swinging, her heart racing, the ball bouncing back and forth between each foot, nothing felt more centered, more central for her.

Kristen wasn't the only one spurred into action. Kemp was fast; his foot lashed out so swiftly, the ball almost spun out of her control. Kristen had never played with someone so quick and so unafraid to just… _go for it_. Unafraid to lash out, to risk it, to put themselves in every position just to get one up, one chance for the ball.

Kristen was forced to be on the lookout on every angle, from every direction. Her body was in constant motion. Kemp feinted right, before lunging towards the ball from her left. The ball spun from Kristen's grip, but she lunged after it in anger.

Kemp brought his elbow up and blocked her, spinning himself and the ball a distance away from her. This lead to a game of keep away that left her insanely frustrated. Kristen caught her breath, feeling sweat glazing her skin. Kemp stopped as well, huffing a laugh at her, as if amused at her daring. Kristen brushed her blonde hair away from her face, reaching up to tighten her ponytail.

It had been a long time since she had last played. She needed a no slip grip hair tie to keep her straight hair back at games. She hadn't worn one in a long time. It kind of pissed Kristen off that just a short bout with Kemp made her feel as if it had been an equivalent to a full game.

It had been too long since Kristen played. The sun set on them, casting the sky into vivid colors of red and orange and pink. Kristen took the chance to admire the colors. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen a sunset. Had it really been that long since she had been outside at night?

Kemp clicked his tongue and captured her attention again.

"No more playing around. I want you to go for it and I want you to actually hit the ball this time."

Kristen narrowed her eyes in anger at the implied slight against her. Kemp cocked a brow and smirked in challenge.

She moved for the ball before Kemp had a chance to react, but it wasn't fast enough because Kemp _did_ react. Kemp swiveled the ball behind his leg and held out a hand to stop her. He narrowed his dark eyes. "Wait," he said. "Just hold on for a second."

"There's no waiting in soccer," Kristen told him cheekily.

"You have to do it when I'm in motion. It's the only way this will work."

And before Kristen could retort, Kemp spun away with the ball, leaving her to chase after him. She knew what he meant. It was time. All or nothing. Her blood coursing in her veins, Kristen let her body take over again. She raced after him and slid to the ground. Her breath caught in her throat, Kristen slid her entire body into the kick, slamming straight into the soccer ball between Kemp's legs.

Kemp knew she was coming and stopped just in time to avoid running into her. They both watch as the ball soared out of their grasp down the field.

Kristen looked up and met Kemp's eyes in astonishment.

Her eyes were shining in excitement. He let out a laugh and Kristen blinked at him in shock. She didn't think she had ever seen Kemp laugh. Not like this.

"Good," he told her. "That was good." He reached out his hand.

Kristen reached up and took it. His hand was electric warm when he pulled her to her feet. Kristen didn't even notice the scuff on her knee socks and cleats, the tingling of her legs from skidding on the grass, the burn of her body from the force of hitting the ground. She was dazed at the notion of Kemp Hurley offering a hand to help her up. It was actually almost thoughtful.

When she was stable footing, Kemp nodded at her. "Again," he said.

.

Kristen stood with her head tilted back and her hands on her hips, struggling to catch her breath. She felt coated in sweat, tacky with adrenaline, and warm with the feeling of sore legs already catching up to her, but there was a fire of red hot _rush_ of achievement flowing in her veins throughout her entire body.

She had nailed Kemp three times with that move. She could predict exactly what direction Kemp was going to turn to block her from stealing the ball and time it exactly right to catch him _just_ off guard at the right moment. But with every time, Kemp wised up to her moves and made it harder and harder for her to reach the ball between them.

"You good over there?" Kemp asked her, casting his eyes in her direction, before lifting his Gatorade to his lips.

Kristen watched his Adam's apple throb with his swallows for a second before snapping out of it with an imaginary slap to the head. Anything to push her thoughts out of mind and out of sight. Don't even go there, she told herself. She sat down on the ground, still breathing hard, and reached for her own bag. She fished her water bottle out and chugged.

The water was room temperature, which she hated, but it did its job, soothing the dryness in her throat.

"I'm good," she croaked. She fished out her phone and saw that she had two missed calls from her mom. Crap, she thought, clicking the screen black and tossing it back in her gym bag. She knew it wouldn't be worth it to call her back. She'd be home when she got home. No matter what, she was facing the firing squad.

Kristen clicked her phone back on and checked the time. "Crap," she muttered out loud. "I have to go."

Kemp tossed his drink into his gym bag and nodded. "Yeah," Kemp agreed, hiking his bag over his shoulder and casting a look towards the school's main building. "I'm pretty sure that's the nightly cleaning staff coming to click us off the property."

"Crap," Kristen said again, shooting up from the ground and grabbing her own bag. "I don't think I've ever stayed at school this late."

The field was brightly lit, but beyond that, the night sky was almost ominously dark. She checked her phone again anxiously. Was she too late to catch her bus? What would happen if she missed it? She would really have to book it. The thought of running after the last bus of the night to get home made her lungs burn. She would much rather lay down in the grass until her muscles stopped hurting. She hadn't realized how sore she really was until this moment.

"Where are you going?" Kemp asked her gruffly.

Kristen jolted and looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"The parking lot is this way."

Was he slow? "Yes… and the bus stop is this way." She gestured towards the other end of the field, the opposite direction of the school and the parking lot.

"You're taking the bus? The city bus?" Kemp asked her, clearly unimpressed.

"Not if we keep chatting like this. I'm going to miss the last one." Kristen told him with a roll of her eyes. She raised a hand in a wave. "Thanks for the workout. I'll see you—"

"Wait." Kemp reached out and held onto her gym bag. "Just hold on for a second."

Kristen turned back around, wondering what it was he wanted now. For someone who was normally so stand offish in just about every other area and not hesitant at all about telling people to fuck off, Kemp certainly never held back in saying whatever he wanted and trying to capture her attention.

"You shouldn't ride the bus at this time. Let me take you home."

Kristen's mouth opened in surprise. She shook her head in astonishment. "It's fine," she managed to say. "I don't mind."

Kemp let out a long suffering sigh and rolled his eyes in annoyance, but Kristen wasn't offended. Sure, he made every indication that he was tired of dealing with her, but _he_ was the one that managed to somehow find a way to keep her around. He tugged on his hold on her gym bag, swinging her around and along with him on his route to the school parking lot.

"Thanks," Kristen said reluctantly. Without the soccer ball between them though, suddenly, Kristen didn't know how to act anymore. She tugged on the strap of her gym bag, sticking close to Kemp in the darkness as they headed towards his car. Luckily, the lights the cleaning crew turned on in the school shown through the windows, providing just enough light for them to find their way.

"Don't mention it," Kemp told her. His dark eyes seemed to glare at her, his face falling back into that familiar scowl. Kristen rolled her eyes at him, but he continued. "Seriously. Don't go telling all your friends about what we're doing here."

Kristen snorted, glaring back at him. "Doing what? Playing soccer?"

"It's more than playing. This is practice." Kemp cast his eyes over her face and Kristen felt herself warm up from his intense stare.

"I don't practice," Kristen told him, looking away. "I don't even play anymore. What does it even matter?"

Kemp didn't say anything. He unlocked his car and Kristen got in quickly. She shoved her gym bag down beneath her feet. Because she was still sticky from sweat, the night air on her skin had actually become pretty chilly. It didn't help that her body seemed to go from hot to cold in seconds. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to warm up.

Kemp got in the driver seat and slammed the door shut after him. He must have realized she was cold because he turned on her personal seat heater. Kristen didn't look at him, focusing out towards the darkness. She wanted to regret getting into the car with him, but she couldn't. There was no guarantee she wouldn't have missed the last bus. The last thing she would have wanted was to be stranded out late and cold to boot. She was actually pretty grateful to Kemp for being so considerate.

But then, he was the reason she was even out here, so… maybe it was his entire fault anyway and it all balanced out.

"It matters, because what we're doing here could be amazing," Kemp finally said. "So I don't need you blabbing to your stupid gossip crazy friends and spreading this shit all around school."

Kristen warred with herself all over again. She swallowed her knee jerk reaction to jump in defense of her friends. His insults clashed inside her head with the words _amazing_. He implied their soccer playing today was amazing, he thought her soccer moves could be amazing.

"Especially if we're going to be doing this again."

Kristen turned to face him in surprise. "Again?" she asked, stupidly.

Kemp turned his face slightly away from the road and met her eyes head on. Inside an enclosed space and so close together, Kemp's normally intimidating features looked less rough, softer.

"Yeah," he said. Casually, as if they had already agreed on this arrangement in advance. As if it was already a done deal, they had their practices booked on their schedule. He did this a lot. He made his statements to the world with all the assurance that it was already official, already given. It implied that if it didn't happen, Kemp would _make_ it happen. Kristen almost envied his confidence. "We still have a lot to work on."

"Like what?" Kristen couldn't help but ask in offence. What had happened to amazing? "I nailed you _good_ more than once. Three times out of four the ball _flew_ out of your reach."

"And out of yours," Kemp told her, turning back to the road.

That stopped Kristen short. Did he mean to say that she was supposed to… steal the ball _from_ _him_ with a move like that? Could she even maintain control of the ball like that? From the speed that she came from? With Kemp constantly changing directions on her?

Kristen fiddled with the pieces of dirty blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail and gnawed on her lower lip again. The thing about Kemp was that not only was he an unmovable wall of pure muscle holding her back from the ball, he was also an unstoppable force when she aimed for it anywhere near his grasp. She had never forced her body to move so fast, to react so quick. Could she catch up to him _and_ take the ball from him?

Kemp was right. It was one thing to pass, but it was a whole other move to keep control. A whole other skill that might be a level too high for her…

Kristen felt the flames of competition take over. Something she had never considered, never tried before.

"What?" Kemp asked her, as if reading her mind directly. "Don't think you can do it?"

Kristen turned back to him and saw that he had that same smirk on his face. The one he gave her on the field, a direct challenge if she ever saw one, aimed at her.

"I can do it," Kristen stated, her heart hammering. Could she? She squeezed her arms. She had never come up with a soccer move she couldn't master, never encountered a challenge she couldn't dominate. Kristen had never stepped down from a challenge. Her entire life was a step up, a climb, a struggle to fight.

"Prove it," Kemp said, the same fire in his eyes, but a smile teasing his lips. "Saturday morning. Same place."

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 **Author's Note:** thanks so much for reading and reviewing! more to come soon.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** love you guys! kind of a short chapter. a look into kristen's home life and her friendships. kemp in the next one!

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 **Chapter Three**

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Kristen pushed her front door shut with a resounding slam, dropping her soccer bag onto her entryway floor. Kristen tipped over, bumping her hip against the wall, kicking off her sneakers without untying them. Her entire body was starting to tingle with the sweet, waning feeling of sore, overworked muscles, a feeling only achieved from an accomplished workout.

"And just where on _earth_ have you been?"

Kristen didn't even have the energy to jump from the sudden demand.

In truth, she had expected something like this the moment she saw the missed calls on her phone.

"I'm sorry," Kristen said meekly. She straightened up and lowered her eyes. Anything to avoid her mother's seething figure and the angry eyes burning into her. "I lost track of time—"

"Doing _what_?" her mother demanded snidely.

Kristen's heart stuttered.

"I was—"

" _Well_?" Marsha Gregory cut her off, without even giving her a chance to explain herself.

This was almost a good thing, because Kristen hadn't been sure what would have come out of her mouth. Despite the fact that she had literally side eyed Kemp and almost been offended for a second about the fact that he wanted to keep what they had been doing a secret from the school, Kristen suddenly would have done anything to keep her mom from finding out too.

Suddenly, it wasn't too much to ask to keep it quiet.

"I was—with the Student Council," Kristen finally answered, tentatively raising her eyes slowly to gauge her mother's reaction.

Marsha was still glaring daggers at her form, her arms crossed and her lips pursed into a thin line in anger. Kristen lowered her eyes again to her mother's bare feet again.

"I expect a call," Marsha told her. "I need to know if you're going to do this again."

"I'm sor—" Kristen whispered again, but her mother's dismissed her again.

"I went out for dinner, so I hope you ate. You should in bed by now, but I want to see you put in at least two hours of studying. Hopefully you at least got your homework done at school. Oh, what am I saying? Of course you didn't. How behind are you on your homework now that you've stayed out late and wasted so much time?"

"Not by much, I promise," Kristen forced through her dry throat. It had been a long time since she had seen her mother so worked up. "I just have a few new assignments from today, but they're not due until—"

"I don't care," Marsha interrupted again, and Kristen winced. She usually knew better than to try to appease her mother with something like that, but Kristen had panicked. "I want you to get it done _tonight_. You need to be reading ahead. And get in another hour with your SAT prep work too."

"I will," Kristen promised earnestly.

Marsha eyed her for another moment longer, before dismissing her and heading back to her bedroom. The moment her mother's back was turned, Kristen sunk back against the hallway wall in relief. She picked up her bag and hurried into her own room, desperate to get out of her sweaty workout clothes before her mother noticed anything suspicious.

Kristen quickly stripped off her sports jacket and workout gear and tossed them into the personal hamper. She'd have to start a laundry load early in the morning before she left for school. There was actually a greater than average chance than anyone would think of Marsha snooping into her room and noticing something suspicious.

Better safe than sorry.

Kristen quickly shook out her hair from its ponytail and ran the shower, letting her bathroom steam up. She hadn't been this sweaty in a long time. Piping, burning hot water on her sore muscles sounded like heaven right now. She almost groaned in anticipation.

She tried not to think about the pile of books stacked on her desk and all the homework in her backpack waiting for her.

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The next morning, Kristen tried not to let the strain in her muscles bother her as she weaved through the morning crowd of students milling in front lawn of the school buildings before homeroom.

The Pretty Committee usually met early on the front steps of the main rotunda building. It was the oldest structure of their entire high school, flanked by brick arcade wings; it provided a funnel and an impossible to miss view of whoever stood on the steps to the entrance before everyone headed to class.

Kristen hopped up onto the stone steps next to her friends and now that she was in the shade, pushed her sunglasses up from her face. She dropped her heavy bag down next to theirs.

"Hey," Claire greeted her first, since she was on the lowest step.

"Morning," she said lightheartedly.

"Oh my god," Dylan spoke up, watching Kristen with concerned eyes. She snapped off a piece of her granola bar and held out a piece to Kristen. "Are you okay?"

"You look horrible," Alicia told her bluntly, looking up from her iPhone.

" _Thanks_ ," she said dryly, seating herself next to Massie.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Claire asked, turning to examine her closely too. Kristen shyly brushed off her concern.

"Not much, but I'll be okay," she assured her friend.

"At least take my Surratt concealer," Alicia offered her. "You _gotta_ do something about those bags. People are going to be stopping you all day. Maybe in concern. Mostly in horror though."

"No it's—"

"Here, you can use my MDNA as base," Massie offered too. She was already rummaging in her bag for her on the go makeup bag. Kristen sighed in defeat and moved closer to her friend to let her work her magic.

Massie leaned in close and Kristen tilted her face up, letting Massie apply a layer of cream around her eyes. Massie's amber eyes were twinkling in mischief and Kristen felt her stomach swoop in anticipation.

"What?" she asked her friend anxiously.

"So," Massie said, raising her brows. "How'd it go with Kemp yesterday?"

Kristen groaned, glad that Massie was keeping her voice down at least. The other girls didn't seem to have heard her, caught up in Dylan's latest story about her sisters. "How do you even _know_ about that?"

"Alicia told me."

Kristen rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Stupid Crazy Gossip Friends was right. Maybe Kemp _did_ have a point.

"What did he want?" Massie asked, capping her cream and uncapping the concealer Alicia offered. She eyed it and decided it might be too dark for her skin tone. Massie must have been thinking the same thing, because she clicked her tongue and recapped it, reaching into her bag to see if she had something else.

Kristen hesitated for a second. "Nothing much… I don't really want to talk about it," Kristen finally said, unsure of how to explain to her friend the complicated feelings rioting inside her stomach and fighting with the thoughts in her head. Kemp had basically told her in no uncertain terms to keep it quiet and the last thing she wanted was to tempt herself and her friends about playing soccer again… Or even the thought of her potentially practicing with Kemp… again.

Massie narrowed her amber eyes at her. "Did you guys hook up?"

" _What_?" Kristen slapped Massie's blending brush away from her face. " _No_!"

Massie giggled. "Okay... Then _what_?"

"Nothing," Kristen sighed loudly, refusing to let herself get any more riled up at her friend's teasing. Massie was just fishing at this point, and she got it, she really did. She'd want to know more too, but Kristen really didn't want to think too hard about _anything_ right now. She felt more tired than she had in a long time. Her lack of sleep seemed to be really hitting her. "Really. We just met up about something afterschool and then he drove me home."

"Sounds sus, but okay," Massie told her, deadpanned. She dropped her brush back into her bag and zipped it up. "You're good. I did what I could."

"Better," Alicia commented, bringing Massie and Kristen back into their group conversation.

"Looks good," Claire told her with a grin. "You should wear your make up like that more often."

Massie preened at the praise and Kristen almost rolled her eyes. She couldn't help but huff a laugh at her friends.

"You can wear it like that this weekend when we're at the retreat," Alicia suggested to her.

Saturday. Kemp. Soccer. Fuck. "Oh shit," Kristen told them. "I can't this weekend."

"What? Why?" Dylan whined.

"I forgot we were going and something came up."

" _Seriously_?" Alicia asked, narrowing her eyes. Luckily, the bell rang before her friends could get any more suspicious or angry at her for completely forgetting that she had made plans with them and completely forgot about them when she promised Kemp to train with him again this weekend. Not that they knew what she had planned. They would have been a _lot_ more outraged…

Kristen gripped her bag tightly in anxiety. The other girls turned and started to head into the building, but Massie hung back. Kristen knew what was coming, so she didn't even bother trying to leave with them. There was no escaping either; she and Massie had the same homeroom. Both of them leaned back against the elevated brick walls, acting as braces for the stairs.

"You're meeting up with Kemp again, aren't you?" Massie asked her, raising her brow again.

Shit. Her friend had her sussed out completely.

"No…" Kristen tried to lie, but her voice caught guiltily and she gave up. " _Ugh_ , fine, yes. I'm sorry I for—"

"Girl, you're a grown woman," Massie interrupted her, channeling Beyonce. Kristen blew her breath out, releasing her anxiety into the air. "You can do whatever you want. If you wanna ditch your friends and a great spa weekend to meet up with Kemp _Hurley_ instead, go right ahead. I'm not judging."

Kristen rolled her eyes. Despite Massie's words, the glimmer in her best friend's eyes and her playful grin told Kristen she was only joking around. Massie honestly didn't mind, and Kristen felt the tightness she hadn't even realized was in her chest about the entire situation lighten just a little bit.

"Thanks," Kristen told her dryly, but she meant it more than her friend could possibly know.

"It's just kind of hilarious, because it's… _Kemp Hurley_ ," Massie teased her, another playful grin on her lips.

Kristen had to squash down an almost instinctive urge to defend him and then felt completely confused. What had she been about to say? Massie was right. It _was_ Kemp Hurley. She had been thinking the exact same thing yesterday afternoon before she headed out to meet him on the soccer field. It was ridiculous. _She_ was being ridiculous.

She understood what Massie was trying to say better than anyone.

"I don't know what he wants from me," she confessed. Kristen felt a tremendous ease of the anxiety in her chest the moment the words were out in the air. She could finally admit it to herself. She felt strangely conflicted about the entire situation.

Because, honestly, despite the slowly sinking in thought that _Kemp Hurley_ wanted _something_ from her, Kristen also felt… pretty good. Kemp had been playing soccer for years, probably as long as her, and he had kept at it. He was the star forward, renown throughout their entire school for his soccer prowess and position as one of the stand out players on the Tomahawks team.

And after playing against him for quite a bit yesterday, Kristen could freely admit to herself what she had been stubbornly denying because of his impossible attitude. That he was _good_. He was really good.

The thought wasn't actually something to complain about.

Being told yesterday for the first time in a long time that her moves could be amazing, if only she worked with him a little more, made Kristen feel acknowledged. Valuable. Someone who was good at doing something they loved.

Good at soccer.

Something she had involuntarily given up a long ago, something that she had thought was lost to her forever.

If only she could voice all this to her best friend, but Kristen didn't know how to put any of it into words. Kemp had asked her to keep everything between them, for some inexplicable reason. And maybe that was okay, because the last thing she wanted was her mother finding out what she had been doing again instead of studying last night. What she was planning on doing _again_ …

And worst of all, she was scared to tell her friends. Because it would be like admitting to herself that she had been itching all along for something as stupid as a cocky asshole _boy_ to lure her back into soccer again. Because she had _missed_ it.

She had missed it that much and Kristen hadn't even realized it until last night, when the wind was burning her face and tangling her hair up, when her lungs were on fire with the exertion of running across a field, when the ball was spinning between her feet. And it wasn't until Kemp had looked at her in awe the second time she had just _moved_ and slid and kicked the ball away from him that she had realized.

She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't _wanted_ to realize.

Massie knocked into her hip playfully, bringing her thoughts to a halt. Kristen turned back to her friend, forcing her thoughts back on track to their conversation. Massie leaned forward. "Oh, I think we _both_ know what he wants from you."

Soccer. He wants to play soccer, Kristen wanted to say. She wanted to tell Massie desperately, but she couldn't.

Instead, she scoffed, removing her sunglasses and tossing them into her bag. She pushed her blonde hair back away from her face and prayed she wasn't blushing. She couldn't afford to give Massie any more ideas.

" _No_ ," Kristen finally told her confidently; once she was sure she could meet her friend's naughty eyes without embarrassment. "It's definitely not that."

"Right," Massie agreed in a false tone, relenting and linking her arms with Kristen when the second bell chimed. They headed towards the entrance. It was almost time for the third bell, indicating they would officially be late for homeroom if they didn't hurry. They took their time. "Because he _just_ wants to meet up on Saturday. To _talk_ about something?"

Her words were obviously not to be taken seriously. Kristen rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Massie," she pleaded. "It's Kemp."

"Yeah," Massie nodded in agreement. "And he definitely has a soft spot for you."

Kristen flashed back to the way he had maneuvered his body, roughly jabbing her in stomach with his elbow and forcing her back and away from the ball in his possession. _Soft_? Kristen snorted.

"It's because you can keep up with him," Massie told her. Kristen wondered if her friend knew exactly how close to the truth she was. Because Kristen knew that was the exact reason why Kemp had asked her to meet up with him after school. "You really impressed him in gym."

Kristen opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn't lie to herself. She felt herself flush with exhilaration.

Massie reached over and pushed her blonde hair forward for her. Her hair would get in her face if she had been playing soccer, but Kristen knew her best friend knew that her left was her good side. Massie noticed her embarrassment and grinned, "And it's because you're such a babe."

"Ugh, stop," Kristen told her, speeding up towards their classroom.

Massie didn't stop. She was laughing as she continued, "Kemp's not too bad looking either."

Kristen ignored her for a moment, eyes intent on their homeroom entrance. But then, she couldn't help herself. She couldn't deny it. But she couldn't admit it either. "Shame about his shitty personality though," she finally shot back.

"I don't know…" Massie cackled. "Some girls like a bad boy."

Kristen spluttered. She was thankful the bell hadn't chimed yet, but also desperate for it to _chime_ already to end her suffering. She cast a look around before retorting, "Maybe I should let Derrick know. Give him some ideas. Next, he'll be getting into fights, blowing up in class, and getting beat down by girls at the gym."

She ticked off all the rumors she had heard about Kemp from just this week. But if Kristen had been trying to turn the tables and embarrass Massie in return, it didn't work. Her friend just smirked.

"Sexy," Massie laughed. "The definition of a bad boy, and the definition of Kemp Hurley too. Dark and angry, mysterious and troubled, but soft and vulnerable… only to the right girl. Kristen, you're in a Hollywood classic."

"Oh my god," Kristen burst out, fed up with feeling embarrassed and being teased. "I swear to you it's nothing like that."

"Okay," Massie said causally, unable to help herself.

"You're going to give _everyone_ the wrong idea," Kristen whined, already dreading any of her other friends finding out. The teasing would be endless. Didn't they understand this wasn't a movie? That was real life? _Her_ life? "He's not like that."

"Okay," Massie agreed causally.

"So promise me you won't mention what Kemp and I are doing this Saturday," Kristen demanded.

"What exactly are you two going to be doing this Saturday again?" Massie asked slyly, waiting for her to slip up. It didn't work, because Kristen was prepared.

"We're just meeting up to talk about something," she said confidently. She assured herself she wasn't technically lying to her friend. She was sure she and Kemp would have to talk _sometime_ on Saturday before they jumped into soccer.

"Okay," Massie assured her loftily. And then a moment later, she smirked and Kristen groaned. "But if you're just talking, why is it such a big deal for me not to say?"

Kristen sighed. "Because I want to keep this a secret, okay?"

Massie cocked a brow and grinned wickedly. Kristen purposely did not let herself get goaded in again. She held out her pinky and locked eyes with Massie.

"Promise?"

Massie smiled down at her, as if she knew something that Kristen didn't. Kristen didn't like that look, but there wasn't anything she could do or say if she wanted Massie to promise. For a second, Kristen worried that the brunette would deny her, but in the end, Massie reached out and locked their pinkies together.

"I promise I won't say anything about what you and Kemp are doing this Saturday."

Kristen narrowed her eyes at her friend's words. She had a bad feeling about this. Massie had a smile playing around her lips and Kristen didn't trust her one bit, but she couldn't figure out what her friend was thinking. It was probably something completely devious and potentially embarrassing to Kristen, but the third bell chimed at that exact moment before she could say anything.

Shit. Homeroom.

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 **Author's Note** : thanks for reading! please leave a comment if you liked!


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